


Toy With Me (Small Victories)

by GettingMetaphysical



Series: All by Myself: A Doctorcest Storyline [6]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Banter, Demisexuality, Doctorcest, Fluff, Humor, Introspection, M/M, Mind BDSM, Mind Manipulation, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Romance, Self-cest, doctorbation - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3204056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingMetaphysical/pseuds/GettingMetaphysical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Seventh Doctor (yet again) rescues his younger self from defeat. The Sixth finds a rather novel way to reconcile his embarrassment. Besides, his older self is adorable, and this time he shant slip away!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toy With Me (Small Victories)

**Author's Note:**

> A slightly plot-y and mostly romantic smutfic. Also LOTS OF MINDSEX. Why do I love writing SixSeven so much?
> 
> * * *

  
”I had everything under control, thank you very much!”

    ”You did not.” 

   ”And how could you tell?” insisted the Sixth Doctor. His blue coat flapped behind him as they walked down his immediate successor’s TARDIS corridors, leaving the console room behind.    
     
”I’m your older self, I think the hindsight ought to do the job.”  

   ”They say hindsight taints intention and years spoil emotion, old chap.” 

   ”Quite true,” agreed the Seventh Doctor, while he lead himself on towards the nearest kitchen. ”I have to admit, despite my pride and best intentions, I was fighting a losing battle. So, I took it upon my future self to get me out of there.”

   ”Oh come on, I totally tricked the Bergadrottning into retaking her own abandoned part of the twin mountain planets.” 

   ”No, that was me, your better half,” Seven sighed. ”I planted a type of nano microbes  two hundred years before the event your were in, so that they’d grown part of the flora. As soon as she and her armies breathed in, their biology and my tech bound them to the ground long enough for their neighbors to escape into the nearest solar system. Not a very good plan, I admit, but it worked better than you sabotaging their machinery.” 

   ”Nonsense! Now they can’t fly off at a whim!” 

   ”But without my influence, they could’ve repaired their ships quicker than the Fefolk’s, and started the whole shebang again.” 

   ”Fine. Fine!” Six scoffed. ”Keep pretending my contribution didn’t matter. Oh, Seven,” he  lamented. ”You were such a sweetheart to me back when I was Two, and now all this me ever gets from you is rejection and scolding. Why, I’ve hardly even seen you since I went drinking with you while I was Four, and I can count those times on my hand. It’s a downright shame.” 

   ”Get over yourself,” Seven said, clicking his umbrella hard at the floor with every step.  

   ”I’d like to see you make me. I may not have been at the top of my game against this minor villain, but…”  

   Six gasped, and his face lit up with devilish joy.  

   ”That’s it, is it not? That’s why you even revealed yourself, rescuing me at the last moment, towing my TARDIS behind yours. You just wanted to see me again, you dashing hero, you!” 

   The older Doctor rolled his eyes.  

   ”Romantic of you, but it’s not like that.” 

   ”But I don’t mind,” his predecessor smirked, laying a hand over his hearts. ”Y’know, you’re awfully adorable, especially when I’m taller than you.” 

   ”Here it comes…” 

   ”And you sti-ill want me,” Six sang in that insufferable ’neh-neh-nene-neh’ tune. 

   ”Want to keep myself out of trouble, and nothing else. If I have to babysit you, then so be it.” 

   ”Babysit? BABYSIT? Am I really comparing myself to some sort of infant?” 

   ”Heavens, no. That’d be an insult to infants.” 

   ”You little…!” Six stomped, shaking the floor. 

   ”Got your own tongue, kitten?” Seven chirped. 

   ”Never, but I could easily get yours!” 

   ”Really, Doctor? Do you even remember me? I’m as hard to get as they come.” 

   Six just laughed. 

   ”Oh you might not be as _thirsty_ , but you certainly wouldn’t mind a sip.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture to his chest. ”I, am as a fine wine made from forbidden fruit. What some would deem depraved and rotten should grow worse each year, but to our taste buds, my, oh my… I only get better.” 

   ”Am I supposed to find your hokey lines arousing?” 

   Six sniffed. ”Five would’ve been steaming in his jumper by now.” 

   ”Lovely little Fivey”, the Doctor made a jerking motion with his umbrella, ”would’ve bent over just from the sight of you.” 

   ”That is precisely what I’m speaking of, Tarts!” The exhilarated youngster swung round to stand in front of his older self, who halted, eyeing him from under the brim of his hat.  

   Six clasped his hands, eyes glittering: 

   ”You’re unexplored to me. A sweet, rare gem of a self.”  

 A weight dropped inside the Doctor’s gut. A sort of fondness, sprung from flattery and familiarity, from back when Six wasn’t Six yet and Seven was as far from Seven as he could be.  

   For one moment, the Doctor gripped the handle of his umbrella like his old cane; for a second, his other self’s grin could’ve been followed by a little melody on the recorder. 

    _My dear Doctor, I’ve got so much to share with you._  

Seven shook his head, wistful. Even now admiring the strength, brilliance, and the deceitful naiveté of his younger minds. Yet here they were, him with this self for the first time in years and years. Here was Six, his boisterous old seducer, now ready to be seduced. And the worn and lonely Seven felt curiosity brewing; light-hearted and, actually, invigorated. 

   He gave himself a tiny smile, one that made Six trade the grin for slightly parted lips. 

   ”Do you want to know what I think, my Sixth? See, the way you’re speaking to me, I rather believe you’re the one steaming, by now.”  

   Seven tilted his head. For his next words, he made sure to carefully roll his R’s, drag out the syllables, just to watch the little changes in his past face – the ignition. 

   ”Yes… Truly, you must be _trembling_ with _desire_. My dear Doctor…” 

   Ever so slightly, the younger’s shoulders heaved. Ah, still got it.   

   ”And since you want to _fuck_ so badly, I’ve a perfect scene in mind for us both.” 

   A sly smile. ”It pays off to tease you, then, dear successor? I must take notes.” 

   ”Don’t think you can figure me out. Not in a million years.” 

   ”Am I that old already? All things considered, you’re exquisitely preserved.” 

   Seven snorted.  

   ”You of all should know I’m not one to kiss and tell.” 

   ”You are now, my little spoiler,” Six cooed, nudging his shoulder. ”Lead the way.” 

   The Doctor raised his eyebrows. So did the Doctor.  

   The future turned, and – just because – swung the umbrella in time with his steps, almost whimsical. The past strolled behind him, humming in his small victory.

~*~*~*~

”Now,” he had told the younger one when they entered the bedroom, all pale browns and bronzes lit by a simple gold chandelier. ”I shall go fetch my tea-tray, and when I come back, I want you waiting on the bed. Your shoes, coat, waistcoat and cravat go beside it.” 

   ”Of course,” he replied, already undressing as his older self left. 

   He’d stood in front of his previous self, slightly bent over to touch foreheads. 

   ”Contact,” the Seventh said, turning his mind into a hot drill. 

   ”Contact,” the Sixth said, and gave in eagerly. His mental defenses were like brick walls collapsing into clouds of fabric. 

   By now, the Doctor was sipping on his second cuppa, relaxed in the olive-green armchair. To his left, the other Doctor rolled around on the bed, struggling and panting as if asleep with fever-dreams. 

   The Seventh found Contact more interesting than simply tying a partner up and letting his voice talk them into orgasm. Both were fun, but the latter much less creative. Unless the partner started talking back. He guessed that Six was looking forward to experiencing Two’s knack for turning the tables on this set-up more than once, from the older side. Personally, he was curious for whatever bizarre deja-vu Eight’s perspective could bring to it. 

   Either way, communication was essential. In the sort of Trance the Doctor had put his younger self into, they conversed through things easy to feel. 

   For example, Two would mainly express his state through music (the more safe and comfortable, the more in-tune and energized). Four did it in flavors (the sweeter, the better – even sickeningly so), and pangs of light. Perhaps that was the origins of Six’s firework of a mind; all slithering, singing colours. 

   It was only sensible that he’d picked a room with a king-sized bed with no bedposts or sharp edges. The younger Doctor had messed it up so thoroughly that one could’ve guessed that a de-clawed bear had played in it. The mattress was scooted out of its frame; the twisted sheets were only still tucked in at the foot end, at which the cover lay like a glossy satin bundle. Two pillows had dropped to the floor at each side, one lay beside the balled-up cover, and the last one was pressed out of air up against the headboard. Earlier, the sight of Six humping it had gotten Seven laughing so hard he almost pulled Six out of the Trance, just to _please_ make it stop! 

   It would’ve been embarrassing if not for how powerful it made the older feel. How any decision, any _whim_ of his could steer the scene in any direction.  

   How he trusted him.  

   And he had to admit that Six put on one hell of a show. Every time he came, his face flushed redder, glazed over with sweat. He kept sucking in breaths through his teeth. His moans went through all kinds of pitches, and the whole room seemed to vibrate with his bombastic vocals.  

   And – was it imaginary? – that waft of melted chocolate… Not merely embedded in his blue clothes, but in his very presence… 

  For his next trick, the Doctor made his younger self believe he wasn’t just in the throes of passion with one other self, but with all of them – one at a time. He made him, between moans and sharp breaths, count in cries; One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and, with a call louder than any number before it: 

   ”Oh, _Seven_!” 

   A small victory; his number had made the younger man climax.  

   He did note that conjuring the sensation of Six actually shagging his own particular big and blonde incarnation made him squirm in the wrong way; a high-pitched croak had drawn from his throat.  

   As such, Seven skipped over Six-on-Six when he got him shout-counting backwards; Seven, (”Ah-ahh!!”), Five, Four, Three, Two, One.  

   Seven snickered and broke the imitation of his First mind. He retreated with quiet elegance, sliding through waves of billowing, steaming velvet. While he pushed the right buttons, squeezed Six into a flurry of small explosions, he evaded the rainbow vines that yearned to ensnare him. Six was trapped in his own head, in his nerves, and Seven needed to survey him. Once again, he settled in the physical world, with just enough of a connection that he could feel on his skin, in his muscles what he was doing to himself.  

   He sent out an electrical pulse that stabbed Six in the spine, got his back to arch and relax, arch and relax with a guttural gasp for each time. Arch! …aaaand relax.  

    _Calm down (why don’t you) Sixie (Sixth Doctor, young Me, now now)_  

   He only got a smatter of purple and delight in reply. 

   _Tsk, (my) greedy (dear)_  

   Seven decided to give the puppeteering a break. The piano wire hooked into Six’s being floated, loose but secure for now. It wouldn’t be worth it to halt the body’s arousal completely. Shutting it down was like draining a chamber of water rather than building it to hold the water in the first place, but it took just as much effort. 

   Besides, it was fun to study the Trance free of outside influence. Flat on his back, the younger Time Lord unbuttoned his trousers. His hands tugged at them, changed their mind, wrung his shirt off, then pulled his pants down as well, kicking it all off. 

   ”I’m watching myself touch myself,” Seven chuckled. Six didn’t hear him, too busy jerking off. Noisily, too, the loud beast. 

   Fascinating, really. One minute he was giggling at his younger self pumping his hips and yelping at the tiniest mental nudge, and the next… just wondering how it would feel. To have Six thrust into him instead of empty air. 

   It’s not like it’d be anything new.  

   But Six would enjoy it… 

   Seven sipped the last drops of tea. 

   …Oh, why not. 

   Watching the breathy blond on the bed, the little man stood, undoing his tie. Off went the jacket, waistcoat, shirt, trousers, pants… he hung them on the armrest, crouched to take off his shoes, but hesitated at the black garters atop his calves. It felt empowering to leave at least the socks on – like proof of his less primal spirit.  

   Seven fluffed the flattened pillow for some back support, and sat down beside Six’s shoulders. Who decided to roll over and pounce.  

   His limbs fell like the bars of a cage around tiny prey. Names and songs boiled his looming silhouette before his new bottom’s eyes. 

    _Seventh ((How one Longs to Feel)) Doctor_  

   The Sixth’s pupils dilated back and forth rapidly. He launched forward to meet the other’s lips, kissing him hard and deep.    

_Mm-hm-hm, yesss, Doctor (old Me, Beddable Bastard, Toying with Me) Come to me_

  _(oh-oH!) Wait–_

   The future dropped a lead block of command: _[STAY]_.  

   With a sigh like a low note from a cello, the younger mind obeyed, head slumping onto the elder’s belly. Seven adjusted his stiff legs under Six’s limp arms. 

   ”Doctor?” 

   ”Hmm…?” mewled Six. Yes, _mewled_. Like a cat, purring and rubbing his face against his thighs. Quite seamlessly, he went from dragging those plump lips along his abdomen to placing them over his erection, and – 

   ”Oof! Ah, I-I…” The Doctor felt his head loll back, while his fingers buried themselves in the golden curls bobbing at a vigorous but even pace. ”That’s… that’s very nice, Six…” 

   A chuckle vibrated around the head of his cock. 

    _Mine (Mine. (Mine?)) ~_

    _Keep doing that and, I might be (Yours.)  
_ Among lulling thoughts of how his lips and tongue stretched and slipped on his member, how good and hot it tasted, one little question slipped between the iron roots of Seven’s humming defenses:  

    _inside?_  

”Ah-ah… Doctor…” _Make me_  

   The little jolt of laughter burned orange. 

   The Doctor only realized his right arm had reached out and grabbed something from the bedside table, when his fingers closed around a tube of lube. Perhaps he’d been too focused on his previous fingers gracing his cheeks, tracing, tickling his anus. Which, the sensible part of the older Doctor noted, wasn’t exactly regularly exposed to even the gentlest probing.  

   Seven popped the lid, reached between his legs, and squeezed, letting those dextrous hands rub him warm and loose, slippery and oh, dear… 

   Here they come. Those grand rainbow vines.  

   …And yet they found no entrance. Six was good telepathically, just not as powerful or controlled as Seven.     The older psyche made its outermost layer break apart, from tree trunks to naught but bushes for the vines to trample through and turn into chocolate rivers. Seven felt his face smile, his body glide down the headboard, and big hands knead his backside. He let part of himself blend with the younger… let him suck and intertwine all he wanted. 

   The Doctor didn’t let go wholly – not even for a second. It would only hurt them to let the youngster into his core. What he did do, was roll the larger man over to climb on top.  

   He lowered onto him, and his arms shook trying to keep steady. Stay still, stay slow. Stay up since it’s too much, go down since he wants more… he wants to feel the coarse curls against his backside, he ought to lean back just for the extra pressure, but… How the hell had he ever been able to handle this – this sheer _size_ …! 

   Then there’s a hand squeezing his hip to push him deep. There’s a thick arm circling his back to tug him down and make him tense and limp at the same time. There’s fingers in their hair, there’s sloppy kisses, and he could barely tell who’s groaning. 

   The Seventh Doctor had been sitting still most of this session, anyway. Having the Sixth thrusting inside him with all the enthusiasm of before just felt… different. Very… physical. Tremendously physical. Burning, tight and silky and hard, so agonizingly hard, entangled in colours and a rolling rhythm. They’re suddenly sweating all over but it smells, tastes like tea and chocolate…  

   And most of all, it feels good. 

   Mustn’t overcomplicate these things.

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=56288>


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